


The Once and Future King

by CarpeDiem



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Happy Ending, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Immortal Leon (Merlin), Immortality, M/M, Magic bonds, Multi, Post-Season/Series 05, Sexy Times, Threesome - F/M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:28:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29589321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarpeDiem/pseuds/CarpeDiem
Summary: Arthur survives the battle of Camlann but discovers that Merlin is a sorcerer when Merlin kills Morgana to save Arthur’s life. Feeling angry and betrayed, Arthur banishes Merlin.Five years later, in a war-torn Camelot, Arthur is finally ready to talk to Merlin, and they realize that they can only fulfill the prophecy together, side by side.The next morning they wake up in the past, in their young bodies.~“Someone or something has sent us back in time, right to the beginning, with all our memories,” Merlin says, and it’s only now that it dawns him what that truly means. “Just imagine everything we could do, everything we could change for the better. We could make everything right this time.“Arthur hesitates for a moment. “Can we even change the future?““Yes, I think we can”, Merlin answers with confidence and new-found hope in his voice.~The story is complete, updates on a monthly basis
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon/Gwaine (ONS), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon/Lancelot (ONS), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon/Leon (ONS), Merlin/Mithian/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), background Gwaine/Morgana, background Lancelot/Guinevere
Comments: 8
Kudos: 94





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I promise the story won’t be abandoned halfway through. It’s complete in German and already posted on AO3 and ff.net. I will post a new chapter on a monthly basis.
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta reader schweet_heart! I couldn’t write the story in English without her! 
> 
> There are a few footnotes in the text. The notes and links to pictures are at the end of each chapter. 
> 
> I have used those maps: (they are amazing!)  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/2069264  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037453/chapters/16736179  
> I invented two kings for the kingdoms of Kent and Dyfed. King Olaf got the kingdom Deira. Anglia and Tír-Mòr are controlled by the Saxons. My Albion ends in the north with the lands Rheged and Northumbria, that are both ruled by Lords under the banner of King Olaf of Deira, thus making him pretty important.

# The Once and Future King

# Part 1

## Prologue

Merlin’s only thought as he looks down over the plain of Camlann — still in his disguise as Dragoon the Great — is that he has to find Arthur.

The sun is just setting on the horizon and wafts of mist are slowly creeping over the barren plain. Several small fires have already been lit all over the battlefield, and Merlin only needs one look to determine that Camelot’s soldiers are vastly outnumbered by the Saxons fighting for Morgana. After both armies clashed, a bloody massacre had begun, and while fighting man against man, Camelot's military discipline can no longer prevail against the enemy’s superiority.

Merlin knows that he has to do something and fast, before it’s too late.

Joints stiff from sitting in the saddle for so long, Merlin climbs down from his horse. The mare’s coat is clammy with sweat and Merlin pats her neck, grateful to her for bringing him here as fast as she had been able to. After loosening the staff from one side of the saddle, Merlin walks to the edge of the cliff. He can overlook almost the entire battlefield from here, but it’s nearly impossible to spot Arthur amidst the chaos of the battle. Following a strange intuition, Merlin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he sends his magic down onto the plain below and tries concentrating on the thread of destiny that links him to Arthur. His head slowly turns towards the right and when he opens his eyes again, he’s looking directly at Arthur, who has been surrounded by several dozen Saxons warriors.

Raising the staff in his hand towards the dark clouds in the sky, Merlin calls upon his magic and a deep and rumbling thunder reverberates over the plain before a flash of lightning strikes the Saxons in front of Arthur. The men are thrown backwards, and a moment later a second lightning bolt strikes and then another, killing the rest of the men that had been about to attack Arthur.

Arthur raises his head, looking for the source of the lightning, and he finds Dragoon on top of the cliff almost instantly. Their eyes meet and Merlin is unable to look away.

“Emrys!”

Merlin whips his head around at the scream that echoes over the plain. He finds Morgana standing on cliff that allows her to watch the battle just as Merlin is doing. He can already feel her drawing on her magic, and he moves his staff in her direction. Another lightning bolt hits the spot where Morgana is standing, and even though she manages to conjure a magical shield in front of her, she gets blown off her feet and thrown backwards. Merlin prepares to attack her again, but all of a sudden Morgana is gone. Sending out his magic, Merlin tries finding her again, but he can’t sense her anymore. She’s either carrying a magical artifact that’s hiding her from his magic, or Morgause taught her a spell that Merlin can’t overcome. Whatever it is, Morgana is now aware of Emrys’ presence, and she’s going to try to kill Arthur before Merlin has a chance to stop her. And that means Merlin has to get down onto the battlefield as fast as possible to keep Arthur safe.

Before Merlin is able to take a single step, however, a deafening roar sounds over the plain, and he tilts his head upwards. Due to the light of the fires and torches from the battlefield, it’s hard to see something in the darkening sky, but after a moment Merlin spots Aithusa. The white dragon is flying straight at him with mighty flaps of her wings, and she opens her mouth, preparing to breathe fire at Merlin on Morgana’s command. Merlin calls upon the ancient powers of the Dragonlords and after reaching for Aithusa he orders her to fly away and not come back. Aithusa shakes her head, roaring angrily, but she has no choice but to obey the command of a Dragonlord and a moment later she’s aborting her attack and flying away.

Merlin’s eyes follow her for a brief moment, watching her disappear into the night sky. Then he walks towards the edge of the cliff and starts descending the steep slope. After only a few steps, Merlin realizes that he’s never going to make it all the way down to the plain in time to save Arthur in his magically aged body. After the briefest hesitation, Merlin drops the staff and transforms his body back into himself. It doesn’t matter anymore that like this everyone is going to find out that he, Merlin, possesses magic, because if he doesn’t succeed in saving Arthur, all is lost anyway.

Merlin makes his way down the slope as fast as he can and a couple of times he nearly loses his footing. Finally arriving at the plain, he starts calling more lightning bolts from the sky to cleave a trail through the Saxons towards the spot where he had last seen Arthur. Without the staff, it’s harder to control the elements, and Merlin needs more time concentrating before each lightning bolt, but his magic seems to feel how desperate he is and the staff would only have interfered while running downhill.

When Merlin finally sees Arthur amidst the frenzied battle, cold fear grips his heart. Arthur is kneeling on the ground, his gaze unfocused, and he’s bleeding from several wounds on his chest where his chain mail has been severed. Morgana is standing over him, her sword raised. Merlin extends his hand and a deafening rumble shakes the ground beneath their feet before a lightning bolt illuminates the setting darkness around them and strikes Morgana with a loud bang.

Once the searingly bright light has vanished and Merlin’s eyes have adjusted to the darkness again, he sees Morgana lying motionless, her limbs strangely dislocated, while soft blue lightning still crackles over her body.

“No! You will pay for this, Merlin!”

Upon hearing the angry scream behind him, Merlin spins around, and only his magic reacting for him saves him from being pierced by Mordred’s sword. The blade is stopped no more than an arm’s length in front of Merlin by an invisible wall and the unexpected collision sends Mordred stumbling backwards. Merlin retreats and extends his hand to call another lightning bolt from the sky, but Mordred has already regained his balance and his eyes flash gold. He extends a hand of his own and throws Merlin backwards with a magical shock wave.

Merlin lands roughly on the hard ground, but while he sees Mordred coming at him with his sword again, something gleaming in the light of the torches catches his eye. It’s Excalibur. The sword laying in the dirt only a short distance away. Merlin calls it towards him with a flick of his wrist, before raising it and gritting his teeth as Mordred’s sword collides with Excalibur’s blade. Merlin mobilizes all his strength and willpower, and the knuckles of his fingers gripping the sword’s hilt are turning white, before he finally manages to shove Mordred backwards with a magical push. Using the gained distance between them, Merlin tries getting to his feet again. He succeeds in dodging Mordred’s next swing and parries the one after that, but he can feel his strength dwindling. He’s no match for Mordred with a sword.

Eventually, Mordred knocks Excalibur’s blade to the side and Merlin falls to the ground again. As Mordred raises his sword for the final strike, Merlin realizes that it’s over. He’s too exhausted to defend himself with his magic and his arms are numb and useless. Mordred is going to kill him and Merlin’s only thought is that he has failed. He wasn’t strong enough to save Arthur, and the future of Albion along with the future of magic are going to die with him. 

The anticipated blow that would slice open Merlin’s torso doesn’t come, though. Instead, Mordred freezes in midair, his eyes widening. A strangled sound falls from his lips, before the hilt of his sword glides through his fingers. The blade falls to the floor, and it takes Merlin a moment to spot the point of a sword that is jutting from Mordred’s chest. The next instant, the sword is drawn backwards and after Mordred collapses, Merlin sees Arthur standing behind the druid boy, Morgana’s sword in one hand and the blade red with Mordred’s blood.

Merlin stares at Arthur, his mind reeling. Arthur’s face is an expressionless mask, his eyes hard, while he’s standing a few feet in front of Merlin with the dripping blade in his hand. It takes several long moments for Merlin to become fully aware of the situation. Arthur has just witnessed how Merlin, his manservant and probably his best friend, used magic to kill Morgana and fight against Mordred.

Merlin opens his mouth to say something, anything, but before he can utter a single word, Arthur’s nostrils flare, and he grits his teeth, pointing the tip of the blood stained sword right at Merlin.

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear a single word out of your mouth.”

Arthur’s voice was practically a growl, and Merlin swallows heavily. His eyes are fixed on the sword that Arthur is gripping tightly with his right hand.

Merlin has tried imagining the moment Arthur would find out about his magic — it was a miracle that Merlin has been able to keep it a secret for so long — and he had always hoped that Arthur wouldn’t be holding a sword when that moment finally arrived. Nevertheless, Merlin has always had faith that Arthur — unlike Uther — would not kill him. The look on Arthur’s face, however, makes Merlin realize that he has probably been wrong about that assumption, and he prepares himself for being pierced by the blade of a sword after all.

To his surprise, Arthur doesn’t move, and several long moments pass before he speaks again.

“You will leave Camelot, right now. And you will never come back,” Arthur finally snarls, barely keeping his rage under control. “I banish you, and if I ever see your face again, I will not hesitate to kill you.“

With that, Arthur turns around and walks away over the battlefield. His steps are slow, and he’s holding his side with one hand, gripping the blade of Morgana’s sword with the other, dragging the bloody tip through the mud behind him.


	2. With all my Heart

## I. With all my Heart

The sun has already reached its peak, and bright beams of sunlight are making their way through the canopy as Merlin leaves the forest and steps out onto the meadow. He has spent the whole morning collecting herbs as ingredients for the potions that he sells every few weeks on the market in Hertford, a small village located in the northern regions of Camelot. With the wicker basket of herbs in one hand and a rabbit for lunch in the other, Merlin makes his way towards the small hut in the middle of the meadow that has been his home for close to two years now.

He stops dead in his tracks after just a few steps, however, upon seeing the two horses that have been tied to a tree next to his hut. Both animals wear saddle and bridle and the red saddle blankets portray a golden dragon. The banner of the Pendragons.

Merlin’s throat tightens up, and he tries ignoring the vise around his heart, while at the same time suppressing the feeling of hope that is rising inside of him. Taking a deep breath, he forces himself to continue moving. As he makes his way over the grass towards his hut, he keeps a watchful eye on his surroundings, but apart from the horses that are chasing away flies with their tails, he can’t detect any movements on the meadow or in the trees surrounding it.

When Merlin reaches the door, it’s slightly ajar, and with a gentle push it swings open. Soft sunlight shines through the hut’s little window, and once Merlin sees who’s waiting for him, he’s disappointed and relieved at the same time.

Percival rises from the small stool where he has been sitting, his hand moving towards the hilt of his sword on instinct. As soon as he recognizes Merlin, though, his posture relaxes again.

“Merlin,” Percival says in his deep voice, and a smile appears on his lips. It’s the sort of smile that you greet an old friend with after you haven’t seen each other for far too long: on the one hand, you are happy to see the other person again, but on the other hand so much time has passed that the familiarity that you once shared has disappeared.

However, Percival hasn’t changed much since the last time that Merlin has spoken to him. Only a few wrinkles around his eyes indicate that this had been five years ago. Their last conversation had been before the battle of Camlann, and therefore before everyone had seen that Merlin is a sorcerer. Sometimes, that fateful day at Camlann seems like a memory of a different lifetime.

Involuntarily, Merlin’s eyes flicker to the long scar on Percival’s neck. The scar extends from his jaw all the way to the collar of his chainmail, and it stems from an injury that Percival sustained during a battle against the Saxons at the border between Essetir and Tír-Mòr only half a year ago. Merlin had been there, watching over his friends in one of his magical disguises, and he remembers that the strike that had caused Percival’s scar would have killed him without Merlin’s interference.

Merlin enters his hut and closes the door behind him, still watching Percival closely. There’s no hint of wariness or fear in Percival’s eyes, and Merlin is beyond grateful for it.

“Percival, it’s good to see you,” Merlin finally says, allowing himself a small smile. “How did you find me?”

While Merlin is waiting for an answer, he walks over to the fireplace, before putting his wicker basket and the rabbit that he has caught down on the floor. 

“The Druids told me that you are living here now,” Percival replies. “I’m sorry, the door wasn’t locked, so I just let myself in.”

Merlin shakes his head in a dismissive gesture. “It’s all right. Why are you here?” he asks and starts tying the collected herbs on several long strings that are hanging from the ceiling next to the fireplace.

“Arthur wants to talk to you.”

Merlin stills, hands poised in the air, before a disbelieving snorts escapes him. After a moment, he continues to tie a small bunch of chamomiles to one of the strings.

“ _Now_ he wants to talk to me,” Merlin says, more to himself than to Percival, and once he has finished tying the chamomiles to the string, he turns around, his eyes meeting Percival’s.

“After five years he has finally decided that he wants to talk to me again.”

Merlin grimaces at the bitter tone in his voice, but he feels a strange kind of satisfaction at seeing Percival flinch slightly.

“He sent me to bring you back to the castle,” Percival continues after a moment.

Merlin shakes his head. “Why should I go back and talk to him? Arthur has banished me from Camelot, remember?”

“And yet you’re still here,” Percival replies and fixes Merlin with a meaningful look.

Merlin grits his teeth and averts his eyes without answering. He couldn’t abandon Arthur and Camelot, even after everything that had happened, even though he sometimes wishes that he were able to do just that.

After a moment of silence, Merlin hears Percival’s voice again. “Do you know what day was four days ago?”

“Every day is the same to me,” Merlin says, pinning his gaze to the far wall. “Four days ago was just the same day as yesterday.”

“Camelot celebrated ten years of Arthur’s regency four days ago.”

Merlin feels something tighten in his chest upon hearing that. So much time has passed since Arthur became king. So many years had gone by. And still they had achieved nothing.

“Ten years,” Merlin says hollowly. “Has it really been that long?” He keeps staring at the wall for another long moment, before he forces himself to grab the small wicker basket and walks over to a shelf on the other side of the hut.

“After the celebrations, Arthur went to Gaius’ old rooms,” Percival adds. “Leon saw him. He stayed there all night and in the morning he summoned me and told me to go find you and bring you back to Camelot.”

Merlin puts the basket down on the shelf, before turning around, crossing his arms in front of his chest and looking straight at Percival. 

“Did he tell you why he wants to talk to me? Maybe he has come to the conclusion that he wants to execute me after all. The last time we spoke he said that he would kill me if he ever saw my face again.”

Percival snorts and shakes his head. “Arthur couldn’t execute you after we found out that you are a sorcerer at the Battle of Camlann. He would not be able to do it now, either. When I saw him in the morning after the celebrations, his eyes were red, like he had been crying. He regrets that he banished you, but he has been too proud and too headstrong to admit it before now.”

Merlin averts his gaze, looking to the floor instead and his throat tightens up. Despite all the time that has passed, he still remembers the Battle of Camlann with startling clarity, and he’s never going to forget the rage and the profound disappointment that he had seen in Arthur’s eyes.

“Please, Merlin,” Percival finally says emphatically. “Come back to Camelot with me and talk to Arthur. Give him another chance. Even though it took him five years to see that he has made a mistake.”

Merlin squeezes his eyes shut, trying to convince himself that he isn’t going to climb onto the horse that Percival has brought along for him. But no matter how hard he tries, he knows deep down that he’s going to do it anyway, because he’s Arthur’s servant, and he’s going to obey his king’s orders as long as he lives.

***

It’s already dark when Merlin and Percival ride up to the gates of the castle side by side, their faces deep in the hoods of their cloaks. At sunset, the spires of the castle had appeared on the horizon and at the same time a slow drizzle had started to pour down from the sky. Dark clouds have been hanging over their heads all day like sinister omens, and Merlin senses a strange crackling in the air that he can’t quite place. He remembers a time when he wouldn’t have been able to sense something like that, but during the time that he has spent with the Druids after the Battle of Camlann, he has come to realize what it truly means, that he is magic itself. Now he’s seeing the world with different eyes.

Once Merlin and Percival reach the gates, the guards standing on both sides ready their spears, and only after Percival tells them the correct password do they return to their previous stance and let Merlin and Percival pass. Merlin can almost feel the tension that is lying over the castle, and he knows the reason for it. Arthur is on the brink of war with Odin, while at the same time he has to defend Camelot against the Saxons on the border of Essetir.

In the castle courtyard, Merlin and Percival dismount from their horses and two guards posted near the staircase take the animals and lead them away. A moment later, Merlin sees a figure coming down the stairs and approaching with fast steps. Merlin needs a moment to recognize Leon and once Leon has reached them, Percival draws back his hood.

“How is he doing?“ Percival asks in a low voice and Merlin knows that he’s talking about Arthur.

“He hasn’t left his rooms since you rode out.”

Leon holds Percival’s gaze, before his eyes flicker to Merlin. He pauses but then acknowledges Merlin’s presence with a stiff nod.

Merlin smiles faintly. He and Leon had never been as close as Merlin and the other Knights of the Round Table had been, but Merlin knows that Leon is an honorable man. Arthur values Leon a great deal and Leon has proven his loyalty to Camelot countless times. Nevertheless, Leon had always been loyal to Uther as well and at the commands of his king, Leon had led countless sorcerers up the stairs to be burned at the stake. 

Percival and Leon exchange a short glance, before Leon nods curtly. Afterwards, Percival beckons Merlin to follow him with a tilt of his head.

They walk through empty corridors that are only dimly lit by sporadic torches, and Merlin is incredibly grateful that they don’t encounter anyone on their way. Walking through the castle again is painful enough as it is.

Flanking the king’s rooms there are two guards keeping watch. When they see Merlin and Percival approaching, they react instantly, blocking the door with their spears. Percival says something, but Merlin hardly hears the words. His eyes are fixated on the dark oak wood of the door and his mouth feels suddenly very dry. After a moment that feels like forever, the guards step aside and open the door.

Merlin forces himself to look at Percival again, and the other man nods encouragingly. Finally, Merlin takes a deep breath before entering Arthur’s chambers.

Inside the room, there’s only a small fire burning in the fireplace, and the light is so dim that Merlin can barely see anything. It takes a moment for him to spot Arthur, who is standing in front of the window behind the table. He’s wearing a dark shirt and trousers and his back is turned towards Merlin as he looks out the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

The door shuts behind Merlin, and without the light from the torches in the corridor it’s easier for Merlin’s eyes to adjust to the near darkness room. Arthur doesn’t visibly react to the sound of the door closing and continues looking down into the courtyard.

Merlin pauses in the middle of the room, unsure what to do. He has envisioned this moment countless times over the past five years, but now that it has finally arrived, he doesn’t know where to start.

“I wasn’t sure you would actually come.”

Arthur’s quiet voice breaks through the silence, and he remains motionless for another moment, before he’s turning around to face Merlin. The faint light of the small fire casts flickering shadows over Arthur’s face, and Merlin can see dark rings under Arthur’s eyes. He looks weary and exhausted, and the dark blonde stubble on his chin indicates that he hasn’t shaved for days.

Merlin swallows heavily. It’s hard to see Arthur like that, and he begins to understand why Percival and Leon are worried about their king.

“I told you, I will serve you until the day I die,” Merlin says quietly. “You decided that you didn’t want me by your side anymore.”

Arthur’s expression closes off, his gaze hardening. “You lied to my face every day for ten years. How did you think I would react to that?”

“I wanted to tell you, so many times,” Merlin replies and his voice chokes off.

A snort escapes Arthur. “Then why didn’t you? Did you really think I would execute you, like my father would have done?”

“At first, yes,” Merlin answers honestly. “Not after you helped Mordred escape from Camelot, though. But I couldn’t risk it. I had to stay by your side, so that I could protect you. If you had banished me — which was exactly what you did, when you found out — I could not have helped you fulfill the prophecy.”

Arthur’s forehead creases and his gaze wanders to the floor. “Morgana was talking about a prophecy when I encountered her at Camlann. She called me the Once and Future King.”

Looking up again, Arthur’s eyes meet Merlin’s and Merlin nods faintly. How many times Merlin has wished that he could tell Arthur everything, but now that the moment has finally come, he’s afraid of Arthur’s reaction. Nevertheless, he takes a deep breath and starts explaining.

“There is a prophecy that the Once and Future King will unite all of Albion. He will create an era of peace and prosperity for everyone and bring magic back to the land. But he can only succeed with Emrys by his side, the most powerful sorcerer that ever walked the earth.”

“And that’s you.“

Arthur didn’t voice it like a question, but Merlin nods all the same.

“Yes. The druids call me Emrys. It means immortal.”

A skeptical look appears in Arthur’s eyes. “Are you? Immortal, I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin replies with a shrug. “I’ve never tested it.”

“Probably a wise decision,” Arthur mutters, and the corners of Merlin’s mouth twitch slightly.

There’s silence between them for a long moment, until Arthur takes a deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “So you are the most powerful sorcerer to ever live, and you stayed with me all these years as my manservant because a prophecy told you to do so.”

Merlin opens his mouth to deny it, but then he hesitates. Arthur is not entirely wrong, and Merlin doesn’t want to lie to him any longer. “At first, yes,“ he finally admits. “But then I realized what a great man you are, and I started believing in you with all my heart. I still do. If anyone can unite Albion and create this golden future the prophecy has foretold, it’s you.”

A mirthless laugh escapes Arthur, and he extends his hands in a helpless gesture. “Well, apparently not. Camelot and the adjacent kingdoms are more estranged than ever before. It feels like we’ve been at war with each other forever.”

“But it’s not too late yet,” Merlin argues. “There can still be peace after all and magic can still be free again.“

Arthur’s expression hardens. “How can I trust magic when it took everything from me that I held dear? My mother was killed by a sorcerer, and my father as well. My sister turned evil because of magic. Not to mention Morgause and every other sorcerer who has attacked Camelot over the years, killing countless knights.”

“Morgana did not turn evil because of magic,” Merlin clarifies. “She was afraid of your father once her magic had manifested, and she turned against Uther because she hated him for blindly killing innocent people. And she started hating you, too, because you never openly defied him. She thought killing both of you was the only way for her to be free. Morgause and Nimueh wanted to see Uther suffer for killing their sisters, the Priestesses of the Triple Goddess, and every other sorcerer who attacked Camelot over the years wanted revenge for their loved ones, those that Uther had executed during the Great Purge or afterwards.”

Arthur’s eyes are trained on the floor, and Merlin has to take several deep, calming breaths before he’s able to continue.

“Your mother was not killed by a sorcerer. Your father caused her death when he didn’t heed Nimueh’s and Gaius’ warnings. He ordered Nimueh to use magic to ensure that Ygraine could get pregnant even after Nimueh and Gaius had told him that to create a life, a life must be given in return. What Morgause told you that day in the ruins of that castle was the truth, except that no one could have anticipated that your mother would be the one dying so that you could live.”

Arthur still doesn’t look up and Merlin hesitates for a moment, before measuring his next words carefully.

“And your father was killed by Morgana. The old sorcerer you brought to Camelot in order to save him tried his best, but Morgana had enchanted Uther’s necklace and the healing spell that Dragoon used backfired, magnifying the effects of the spell tenfold and killing Uther instead.”

A furrow appears between Arthur’s brows, and he looks up with narrow eyes. “How can you possibly know how my father died? You weren’t even in Camelot when he…” Arthur’s voice chokes off and Merlin can see that he’s finally able to put two and two together. Then Arthur closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “You always had something important to do whenever Dragoon showed up. You were never there when he was, because you were him.”

Arthur rakes a hand through his hair and turns towards the window again. His shoulders drop and Merlin has trouble recognizing the strong and proud king that Arthur has always been in the man that is standing in front of him now.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” Merlin says in a small voice. It should be liberating to tell Arthur the truth after all these years, but it isn’t. “I thought, if I saved Uther’s life with magic, you would come to see that magic isn’t evil, and you did promise to lift the ban on magic. When I realized what Morgana had done, it was already too late, and I couldn’t save Uther anymore.”

Arthur snorts in disbelief. “Well, I guess you were secretly delighted that he was dead nevertheless.”

“That’s not true!” Merlin replies emphatically. “I wanted to save him for you, because despite everything he had done, he was still your father, and you loved him. And for this very reason, I kept you from killing him after Morgause had told you how your mother had died.”

Arthur doesn’t say anything and after a moment he leans forward, bracing his hands against the windowsill.

Merlin doesn’t know what to say, and he keeps his eyes trained on Arthur’ back. The silence between them persists for an uncomfortably long time, until Arthur straightens again, without turning around.

“I don’t know why I sent Percival to bring you back to Camelot,” he says, his voice hollow and something tightens in Merlin’s chest.

“Then I will go again,” he replies, but Arthur doesn’t seem to register his words at all.

“I thought, if I just talked to you, everything would change somehow,” Arthur continues. “That we could forget the last five years ever happened.”

Merlin looks at the floor, and he knows what Arthur means. “When I lived with the druids after you had banished me, I was waiting for a rider from Camelot every day.” A sad smile appears on Merlin’s lips. “With every month that passed, I gave up a little bit of hope. And after a year had gone by, and then another, I realized that you would never forgive me, because you just hated me too much.”

Arthur turns around and finally looks at Merlin again, shaking his head. “I have never hated you. I was just… so angry that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. I guess it was even worse, because everyone kept betraying me, Lancelot and Guinevere, Agravaine, Morgana, and then you.”

“I’m so sorry, Arthur,“ Merlin whispers miserably.

Arthur nods slightly, without meeting Merlin’s eyes. “I know,” he says. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s too late now.”

His tone is weary, like he has already accepted that they have failed, and Merlin can hardly bear seeing him like this. They have made many mistakes, maybe too many in order for everything to take a turn for the better, but they’re both still here and Merlin refuses to believe that everything is lost after he has finally come back to the castle and Arthur has told him that he doesn’t hate him.

“It doesn’t have to be too late,” Merlin argues and shakes his head with newfound determination. “We can still fulfill the prophecy. There’s still time.”

Arthur fixes him with an incredulous look. “Do you really believe that? After everything that has happened, how can you still have hope?”

“There’s always hope,“ Merlin says emphatically, before walking around the table and towards Arthur. “You just have to believe in it. You just have to believe in yourself. I believe in you.“

Arthur shakes his head miserably. “Why?”

Merlin hesitates. He has told Arthur so many things already — things he has kept secret for all these years — but one secret still remains. It’s a secret that Merlin has guarded closely and kept under lock and key for many years, but if there is even the slightest chance that everything could turn out for the better after all, Merlin had to take it. He owes it to Arthur and to all of Albion.

“Because I love you,” Merlin finally says with a small smile. “I’ve always loved you.”

Arthur stares at him for a long moment, before he starts laughing.

Merlin grits his teeth. “It’s not funny,” he snaps, but Arthur throws his hands up in the air.

“But it is,” he insists with a strange tone in his voice. “Look at us! Here we are, finally talking, after so many years that we have wasted lying to each other.”

Merlin’s about to say something harsh, but then Arthur’s words finally register in his mind.

“What do you mean _lying to each other_?”

A sad look appears in Arthur’s eyes. “I’ve loved you since the beginning. Probably since the day you drank from that poisoned chalice. You were prepared to give your life for me. No one had ever done something like that—not without wanting to gain something in return, or being ordered to do it, at least. I just never had the courage to admit to myself how important you are to me, let alone tell you how I feel.”

“You… love me?“ Merlin’s breath hitches.

“Yes, you idiot, I do!” Arthur replies with a snort, but there’s a fond expression in his eyes.

Merlin blinks stupidly at Arthur, his mind reeling. “But what about Gwen?”

“Gwen was different,” Arthur says quietly. “She was so kind and gentle and strong. It was easy to fall in love with her. And I truly loved her. It hurt, when I had to banish her after she had betrayed me, but sending you away broke my heart.”

“Gwen never betrayed you, and Lancelot didn’t either,” Merlin says gently. “Gwen had feelings for Lancelot, but she chose you. Her betrayal was Morgana’s doing. She enchanted her, and the Lancelot that came back wasn’t real, but a mere shadow.”

Arthur presses his lips together and nods to himself. “I always suspected something like that. That’s the reason I allowed her to come back to Camelot and decided to marry her in the end. But until the day she died, together with our newborn son two years ago, her heart always truly belonged to Lancelot. Just as mine is always going to belong to you.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” Merlin’s voice chokes off.

When the news had reached him that Gwen had died giving birth to her first child, together with the baby, Merlin had toyed with the idea of returning to the castle. It had been a black day for Camelot. Gwen had been a great queen, but more important than that, she had been Merlin’s friend since the early days. Merlin assumed that she had tried convincing Arthur to revoke Merlin’s banishment, but Arthur could be incredibly headstrong once he had set his mind to something.

“What are we going to do now?” Merlin finally asks.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? “

“Well, this can’t be it,” Merlin clarifies. “We are finally here, together, after everything that has happened. We wasted so much time. Let’s not waste anymore.”

Arthur fixes him with an incredulous look. “You really think we can still fulfil the prophecy?”

“Yes, there is still time,” Merlin replies and the moment the words leave his mouth he becomes even more certain that they are true. “I can forgive you for banishing me, because I understand why you did it, if you can forgive me for lying to you.”

A small smile appears on Arthur’s lips. “I forgave you years ago. It was just easier to hold on to my anger than it was to admit that I was missing you every day.”

“I promise to never leave your side, if you promise not to send me away again.”

“That’s easy,” Arthur replies with a sad smile, looking straight at Merlin. “I don’t think I could stand being apart from you ever again. I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life than I have in the last five years.”

Merlin crosses the last distance between them, until he’s standing right in front of Arthur. “Then let’s do it. Let’s just forget what has happened. Lift the ban on magic, appoint me Court Sorcerer and let us bring peace to a united Albion, together—side by side, like it should have been all along.”

A disbelieving snort escapes Arthur, and he shakes his head, but there is something hopeful in his eyes. “You’re crazy,” he states.

Merlin shrugs, a wide grin plastered on his face. “Maybe. So, what do you think?”

“I think I really want to kiss you right now.”

Arthur takes one step forward and his hands cup Merlin’s face. The next thing Merlins knows, Arthur’s lips are brushing against his, warm and soft, and Merlin’s mind stutterers to a halt. He has dreamed about this moment for so many years, but he has never dared to hope that Arthur could reciprocate his feelings or that they could one day be together.

A strangled, desperate noise escapes Merlin and his eyes flutter closed as a wave of emotion surges through him. He blindly grabs for Arthur to pull him closer and holds on for dear life, unwilling to ever let him go again. Arthur seems to be totally on board with that, because he buries his fingers in Merlin’s hair and crashes their lips together in a fiercer kiss.

Feeling Arthur so close, and having Arthur’s body pressed flush against his own, makes Merlin’s mind go completely blank. Nothing matters anymore except this moment, and Merlin has the strange feeling that a part of him, a part that has always been close, yet out of reach, is finally slotting into place.

When Merlin suddenly bumps into something with the back of his knees, he makes a surprised sound, before realizing with a glance that Arthur has slowly pushed him across half of the room and the object behind him is in fact Arthur’s four-poster-bed. Only Arthur’s fingers, when they grab hold of the front of Merlin’s shirt, prevent him from falling backwards onto the mattress.

“You have no idea for how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Arthur murmurs, while he starts pulling at Merlin’s clothes.

Smirking, Merlin pushes his leather coat from his shoulders, before pulling his shirt over his head.

“Oh, believe me, I do. Because I wanted to do the same thing for just as long,” he replies.

Arthur meanwhile has started unlacing his own shirt and Merlin begins opening the front of Arthur’s trousers. He can’t wait to feel Arthur’s skin under his fingers.

Once the shirt is gone, Arthur surges forward to claim Merlin’s mouth again. It takes a bit of fumbling to get rid of the rest of their clothes, but once they have managed it, Merlin climbs onto the bed. He pulls Arthur down with him, scooting backwards, until Arthur is sitting with his knees bracketing Merlin’s thighs.

While their lips meet for another desperate kiss, Merlin’s hands move down Arthur’s back. When he feels the countless scars under his fingertips — some of them old and familiar, but others new and unknown — a strangled whine escapes Merlin’s throat, because he hasn’t been there to prevent those injuries. He pushes those thoughts away, though, focusing on the moment. Finally, his hands reach their destination, and he grabs Arthur’s ass while moving his hips upwards at the same time. Arthur breaks the kiss to suck in a deep lungful of air, before letting it out in a long moan.

Merlin looks up at him and even though the flickering light from the fire doesn’t cast more than dim light, Merlin can see the hunger in Arthur’s eyes. It’s the most amazing thing that Merlin has ever seen, and he can still hardly believe that this is actually happening. The need to have Arthur even closer is becoming unbearable, and he can’t wait to feel Arthur inside of him.

“Have you ever done this before? With a man, I mean?” Merlin asks breathlessly.

Arthur nods, clamping his lip between his teeth. “Yes, a long time ago. With one of the knights.”

When he doesn’t elaborate, Merlin lifts a questioning eyebrow, but Arthur tries averting his gaze.

Merlin cups one side of his face, thumb stroked gently over Arthur’s cheek. “No more secrets.”

Arthur heaves a sigh and rolls his eyes. “It was Leon, alright? I was sixteen.”

Merlin just grins at that, and now it’s Arthur’s turn to lift an eyebrow.

“And what about you?” he asks defiantly.

“Gwaine,” Merlin mutters, ducking his head.

“I knew it!”

A triumphant grin has appeared on Arthur’s face and Merlin looks at him skeptically.

“You did?”

“Well, no, but I suspected.” Arthur shrugs. “He was awfully protective of you.”

“Enough of that,” Merlin declares, before pulling Arthur down for another kiss. This one is just as heated as the last, and after a moment it’s Arthur who grinds his hips against Merlin in a desperate plea for friction.

A rippling bolt of pleasure surges through Merlin, and he starts moving his hips as well, because it just feels too good.

A moment later Arthur lifts his head. “Hold still, or this will be over before it even begins,” he demands hoarsely, while trying to keep his own hips still, but utterly failing.

“Excuse me, you started this,” Merlin replies with a drawn-out moan, still very much moving. 

Arthur snorts. “Maybe we should just… take the edge of,” he suggests and Merlin nods frantically.

“Good idea.”

Their lips meet again and Merlin’s hips buck upwards, meeting each of Arthur’s downward thrusts. The friction is delicious, and Merlin’s blood rushes in his ears. Nothing is important anymore except Arthur’s lips on his and Arthur’s skin under his fingers.

His climax takes Merlin completely by surprise, and he breaks the kiss, gasping for air, hips rocking forward one last time. He can hear Arthur’s breath stuttering close to his ear, before his whole body stiffens and Arthur comes as well, a low moan falling from his lips.

When Merlin comes back to himself, Arthur’s forehead is resting on Merlin’s right shoulder, and they are both trying to catch their breath. Finally, Merlin feels Arthur’s lips pressing a soft kiss onto his collarbone, and answers with a contented rumble.

A moment later, Arthur looks up and their eyes meet.

“I love you.”

A happy smile stretches across Merlin’s lips, and he lifts his hand to push a strand of blond hair out of Arthur’s face, before cupping his cheek. “And I love you.”

Slowly, Merlin guides Arthur’s head down again and presses the softest of kisses to Arthur’s lips. Now, with the desperate urge to feel the other as close as possible gone, their lips move languidly over each other, feeling and savoring everything that makes the other’s breath stutter.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the kiss ends and Arthur lies down next to Merlin, supporting his head on one hand. The flickering light of the fire dances over Arthur’s skin, and Merlin just has to lift a hand and touch him to assure himself that he’s not an illusion. Merlin’s fingers trail over Arthur’s throat, before moving lower and tracing the long scar that extends from Arthur’s sternum to his ribs. He feels the bumpy scar tissue under his fingertips, and even in the dimly lit room the darker shade of the scar is visible on Arthur’s skin, testifying to the fact that Arthur has survived and that he’s still here. It could have been quite different.

“What are you thinking?” Arthur asks in a low voice. He has been watching Merlin closely, and Merlin has to clear his throat before he’s able to speak.

“Morgana nearly killed you that day at Camlann. When I saw her standing over you with her sword in hand, I thought I had come too late.”

“But you didn’t,“ Arthur reminds him, before putting his hand over Merlin’s fingers on his chest. “You saved me that day. You saved everyone.”

Merlin shakes his head, lips pressing together tightly, thinking of Gwaine, who had been killed by Morgana. “Not everyone,” he whispers, his voice cracking midway through his words.

“That wasn’t your fault,” Arthur says, enunciating every word clearly. “You did the best you could. Don’t ever think anything else.”

Merlin nods, but his throat has closed up, and he can’t seem to dispel the painful memories until Arthur leans forward and brushes their lips together again. Merlin makes a strangled noise, and he claims Arthur’s mouth in a desperate kiss, putting all of his grief and anguish and the loneliness of the last five years into the kiss. Suddenly, the urge to get as close to Arthur as possible is back with renewed force, overwhelming him. Arthur seems to feel the same way because he grabs for Merlin, before turning over onto his back and pulling Merlin with him until he’s lying flush on top of Arthur. Once again, they start moving their hips against each other, but Merlin knows that it’s not going to be enough this time.

Lifting his head, Merlin draws in a ragged breath, before looking at Arthur with a pleading expression. “Please tell me, you have some kind of oil here.”

Arthur nods. “The drawer of the bedside table,” he replies breathlessly.

Merlin straightens up and leans over to the bedside table. Before he can reach the drawer, however, it’s already opening on its own, and a small vial of oil flies into Merlin’s hand. He knows that his eyes have flashed gold, and he stops moving.

“I’m sorry,” he says hesitantly, before forcing himself to meet Arthur’s gaze again. “My magic sometimes kind of gets ahead of me. Especially when you are concerned.”

There’s no hint of fear or disgust in Arthur’s eyes though, only surprise, and after a moment Arthur shakes his head with a small smile.

“Don’t be sorry. It’s part of you. I don’t want to lie to you, it’s… strange and a part of me is afraid of you, but I know that it’s you and that I can trust you.”

Merlin grins and the tension in his shoulders drains away. He had been afraid of having ruined everything, but he should have had more faith in Arthur, and an unspeakable feeling of joy rises inside him.

Opening the stopper of the small vial, Merlin pours a generous amount of oil into his hand, before closing his fingers around Arthur’s erection. Arthur’s breath stutters and his eyes fall shut as Merlin starts moving his hand. It’s a breathtaking sight, and Merlin longs to study every little detail of Arthur’s face, but right now the need to feel Arthur inside of him is too strong.

Merlin lets go of Arthur again and pours the rest of the oil from the vial over his fingers. Then he leans forward, bracing himself on the mattress next to Arthur’s head and moving his fingers behind him.

Merlin clamps his bottom lip between his teeth, stifling a moan as he prepares himself for Arthur. He can feel Arthur’s hands sliding up his thighs, before fingers grip his erection tightly. A drawn-out moan escapes Merlin. “Arthur.”

“I’m here,” Arthur replies hoarsely. “I’ll always be here.”

A moment later Merlin pulls his fingers back again, unable to last any longer. He splays his hands on Arthur’s chest and lifts his pelvis, before sinking down on Arthur in one languid motion. He knows that he hasn’t prepared himself nearly enough, but there’s no pain, only lust and desire. Merlin’s whole body is tingling, and he’s certain that his magic has helped to ease the way. As soon as Merlin is seated, he starts moving, setting a quick pace.

“Slow down, you will hurt yourself,” Arthur admonishes, his voice breathless, but Merlin shakes his head.

“I can’t slow down. I need you too much.”

Merlin’s movements become faster, and when he hears Arthur’s breath catching in his throat, he knows that his eyes are once again glowing gold. He can feel his magic reaching for Arthur, but there’s nothing he can do to prevent it. Arthur seems to feel it as well, because he makes a strangled noise and his eyes widen. A moment later, his hands grasp for Merlin, pulling him downward. Their lips meet again and Arthur buries his hands in Merlin’s hair before rolling them over.

Once Merlin is lying on his back, Arthur gets onto his knees, and Merlin closes his legs behind Arthur’s back. Arthur starts moving again with short hard thrusts, and the air around them starts to crackle, the flames in the fireplace flaring up. A sharp gust of wind suddenly blows through the room and shimmering gold lines of pure magic start dancing over Arthur’s skin.

Merlin stares up at Arthur, mesmerized by the sight of his magic claiming Arthur. Arthur, however, doesn’t seem to be aware of it and his thrusts became deeper and harder and somehow more erratic. 

It only takes a few more thrusts before Arthur’s eyes fall closed and his whole body stiffens. He reaches his climax with a loud moan, and the last thing that Merlin sees before his own climax crashes over him are the glowing tendrils that cover Arthur’s skin. Then, there is only glistening white light, and for several long moments Merlin can only feel Arthur. Finally, the current of magic around them starts fading again.

When Merlin comes back to himself and opens his eyes, he’s still trying to catch his breath. In the flickering light of the fire, he sees that the golden tendrils on Arthur’s skin have disappeared. Their eyes meet and there’s a look of undisguised wonder in Arthur’s gaze. A bright and happy smile appears on Merlin’s lips. Arthur returns the smile in very much the same fashion, and Merlin feels whole, happy, and loved. He can still sense the connection between Arthur and himself, vibrating softly, and Merlin wishes that he could feel Arthur as close as this forever, but with each passing moment the feeling is slowly fading away.

Finally, Arthur takes a deep breath, and after pulling out of Merlin, he lies down next to him, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin lifts a hand to card through Artur’s hair gently, while Arthur snuggles into Merlin’s side. 

“Tomorrow, I want you to tell me everything that has happened over the years,” Arthur says quietly, his voice vibrating against Merlin’s chest. “Everything that I don’t know yet.”

Merlin nods. “I will. And then we will try to make everything right after all. Together.“

“Together,“ Arthur echoes, his voice quiet but firm, and for the first time in a very long time, Merlin feels hopeful while thinking of tomorrow.


	3. The Call of Magic

## II. The Call of Magic

Merlin is slowly waking up, feeling a warm body moving in front of him. For a moment, he’s not sure where he is, but then the memories of the last night come back to him.

When he opens his eyes to slits, bright sunlight greets him, and he closes them again, pulling Arthur closer to his chest. For a brief moment, Merlin wonders why the mattress he’s lying on is so hard, but he pushes the thought aside as not important right now, burying his face in Arthur’s hair instead. He doesn’t want to wake up and face the new day yet. He knows that he has to get up eventually, and at some point someone will come to wake the king — his manservant, probably — but as long as that isn’t happening, Merlin is going to hold Arthur in his arms, enjoying the moment, without worrying about the world out there.

Arthur is moving in front of him again, probably trying to turn around. An unhappy sound escapes Merlin, but he moves backwards on the mattress to make room for him. Suddenly, the mattress below him ends, and an instant later Merlin ends up on the unyielding stone floor. The blanket Merlin has pulled with him on instinct does little to cushion his landing, and he groans painfully. Finally opening his eyes, he doesn’t see the wine-red drapes of Arthur’s four-poster bed. Instead, he comes face to face with a few crates and several piles of books underneath a simple, narrow wooden bed. Before Merlin can make sense of that, however, he hears footsteps approaching, and a door opens behind him with a creaking sound.

“Merlin! I called for you three times already. You don’t want to be late on your first day as… — Oh.“

Merlin’s eyes widen. Hearing Gaius’ voice behind him is completely impossible! Gaius died three years ago!

When Merlin turns around, however, he in fact sees Gaius standing in front of him. The old Court Physician holds the open door in one hand, staring at Merlin with an unreadable expression on his face. Only now does Merlin become aware of where he is: even though he can’t understand how it’s possible, he’s lying on the floor next to his bed in his old room in Gaius’ chambers.

“Merlin, what the…” Arthur grinds out from his place on the bed, but he stops mid-sentence.

Merlin tries getting up hastily, but he suddenly realizes that he’s completely naked. He’s sitting on the blanket, though, so he grabs his blue shirt from a chest next to the bed, covering himself with it. Then his eyes flicker towards Arthur on the bed behind him, and it takes a moment for Merlin to realize what is wrong with the picture in front of him.

Arthur is sitting up on the bed, and in addition to his hair being in disarray from sleeping, he’s completely naked as well. What causes Merlin’s breath to catch in his throat, however, is the fact that Arthur doesn’t look a day older than twenty, and there’s only a single, small scar visible on his chest. Arthur is meanwhile staring at Gaius, blinking several times. At last, he seems to notice that he’s naked and reaches for the pillow, holding it in front of himself.

Gaius is the first of them to react. He bows deeply, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Sire,” he says respectfully, before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

As soon as the door is closed, Merlin turns around, his eyes meeting Arthur’s. For a moment, they’re staring at each other in utter bewilderment.

“Merlin, what’s going on here?” Arthur finally asks, an ominous tone in his voice. 

Merlin holds up his hands. “I don’t know. It wasn’t me!”

Arthur doesn’t look entirely convinced, but after a moment he shakes his head, a bewildered expression on his face. “You look like you have just arrived in Camelot a few days ago.”

Merlin reaches for a small mirror that’s lying exactly where he had always put it. He raises it slowly, gawking as he catches sight of himself. He’s young again. Merlin’s mind is reeling, but then he remembers Gaius’ words, and he closes his eyes, sending out his magic. He can feel Camelot, like he has felt it hundreds of times before, and the man standing outside the door is definitely Gaius.

Opening his eyes, Merlin once again sees his reflection in the mirror staring back at him. He takes a deep breath, before his eyes flash golden as he places a spell over the room so that Gaius won’t be able to eavesdrop.

Finally, Merlin looks at Arthur again. “Apparently, I did arrive in Camelot just a few days ago. I guess Gaius was about to say that I didn’t want to be late on my first day as your new manservant.”

Merlin flips the mirror, holding it in front of Arthur’s face. Arthur stares at his reflection, blinking several times, before slowly lifting a hand and touching his chin.

“How is that possible?” Arthur asks softly, looking stricken. His eyes flicker to Merlin, and he lifts an eyebrow. “Any ideas?”

Merlin shrugs, trying to come up with an explanation. “Ahm… an evil sorcerer sent us back in time?”

“How?”

“I… have no idea?” Merlin replies helplessly.

“And to accomplish what exactly? Sending us back in time with all our memories seems like a pretty stupid idea to me.”

Merlin has to admit that Arthur has a point there, but before he can say as much, a furrow appears between Arthur’s brows. 

“Unless this is a dream,” he says, looking around the room skeptically.

Merlin puts the mirror away, before tweaking Arthur’s arm without further ado.

“Ow!” Arthur complains at once, and retaliates by hitting Merlin. “Are you crazy?”

Merlin grimaces and rubs the spot on his shoulder where Arthur has struck him. “Not a dream then. That hurt.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “You’re such a baby.” Then his eyes take in the room once again, before finally flickering back to Merlin. “What are we going to do now?”

“What do you mean?

Arthur tilts his head. “Don’t be dense, Merlin. How do we get back?”

Back to a future where they had made so many mistakes. A future where they hadn’t managed to fulfil the prophecy, and Camelot was at war with the neighboring kingdoms. Back to a future where Gwaine, Lancelot, Guinevere, Elyan and so many others were dead.

Merlin’s throat tightens up. “Do you really want to go back?”

“Of course I do!” Arthur replies emphatically, but then he falters, an uncertain look appearing in his eyes. “Well, I mean… not necessarily. But we have to go back, right?”

For a moment, the question hangs in the air between them, until Merlin shakes his head.

“I don’t think so. Someone or something sent us back in time, right to the beginning, with all our memories,” Merlin summarizes, and it’s only now that it dawns him what that truly means. “Just imagine everything we could do, everything we could change for the better. We could make everything right this time.“

Arthur hesitates for a moment. “Can we even change the future?“

“Yes, I think we can,” Merlin answers with confidence and new-found hope in his voice. “I saw the future once in a place called the Crystal Cave in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. The crystals showed me a possible future, and the guardian of the cave said I could still change that future and what I had seen didn’t have to happen.”

“And did what you see happen?”

Merlin nods reluctantly, before standing up and sitting down on the bed next to Arthur, still holding the blue shirt in front of him. “Well, yes, but I did only see the outcome without knowing what actions would cause it to occur. I mean, I didn’t know if what I saw happened because I did something, or because I didn’t do something. This time we know what we did, and we know what’s going to happen as a result of those actions. And that means we can change the outcome by doing something else, or not doing something at all.”

A pensive look appears on Arthur’s face. “You think that’s the reason we’re here? To change the future?”

“I don’t know,” Merlin answers truthfully, but he hopes so with every fiber of his being. “First we should find out how we got here. And until then, we have to act like everything is normal.”

Arthur nods, still deep in thought, and Merlin is pretty sure he hasn’t figured out yet what it truly means, that they are back at the beginning of their journey.

“That means you have to remember that you are not the king,” Merlin reminds him. “Your father is the King of Camelot.”

Arthur looks up, staring at Merlin for a long moment, before snorting derisively. “My father,” he says quietly, shaking his head with a grim expression on his face.

“I know,” Merlin replies softly. “I don’t like it either. But right now, you have to act like the obedient son and Prince of Camelot. We will deal with your father later.”

Arthur bites his lip, giving a curt nod, before raising an eyebrow. “And what are you going to do?”

Merlin flashes him a carefree grin. “I’m going to play the role of your idiotic manservant once again. And because I’m as good as invisible as a servant, the first thing I’m going to do is visit the dragon under the castle. Maybe he can help us. Either way, I won’t take anything that he says at face value this time. I’ve learned that lesson, believe me.”

Merlin gets up from the bed and pulls the blue shirt that he had used as cover over his head. On the crate at the end of the bed, he finds the rest of his clothes, and at the top of the pile lies his red kerchief. Merlin stares at it for a moment before picking it up and tying it around his neck. He’s about to reach for his trousers when he notices that Arthur hasn’t moved and is still sitting on the bed. Merlin has already opened his mouth to ask what’s going on, but he pauses, his hand freezing in mid-air, when he sees the bewildered expression in Arthur’s eyes.

“You don’t know anything about the dragon under the castle,” Merlin says, biting his lip.

Arthur stands up from the bed, and the cushion he’s been holding in front of him falls to the floor. With his hands on his hips, he looks at Merlin, teeth gritted together and a hard look in his eyes. The fact that Arthur is still very much naked should diminish his murderous expression, but somehow it doesn’t.

“Well, then you’d better start explaining.”

Merlin grimaces, deliberating where to start. Seeing Arthur in front of him in all his youthful glory is not helping at all. Finally, Merlin tries to get a grip on himself, and clears his throat.

“Do you remember the dragon that attacked Camelot?”

Arthur nods curtly, prompting Merlin to continue.

“Well, his name is Kilgharrah. He’d given me advice many times over the years. Advice that I used to save you and Camelot. Your father had him chained up under the castle over twenty years ago.”

“How did the dragon escape?”

Merlin has already anticipated that this would be Arthur’s first question, and he hesitates for a moment.

“I freed him from his chains,” he finally admits.

“You did _what_?” Arthur asks in a low and dangerous voice. “It killed nearly fifty people—among them some of Camelot’s best and bravest knights! How could you do something like that?!”

Arthur has gradually raised his voice, and Merlin inevitably cringes. He knows he made a terrible mistake back then, and everyone who died that day weighs heavily on his conscience. But Arthur doesn’t know what awful decisions Merlin had to make in order to keep Camelot safe.

“I didn’t have a choice!” Merlin finally snaps. “When the Knights of Medhir attacked Camelot, I didn’t know how to stop them! The dragon said he would only help me, if I promised to free him. He said he wouldn’t attack anyone. Camelot would have fallen, if I hadn’t made that bargain!”

Arthur’s nostrils flare, and he start to open his mouth to say something, but then he closes it again and grits his teeth to control his rage. After taking a deep breath, he tries again. “You told me back then that I had dealt the dragon a mortal blow. I guess that was a lie as well, wasn’t it?”

Merlin nods. “Yes,” he answers quietly.

“So what did actually happen?” Arthur demands, his eyes narrowing.

Merlin hesitates, but if they want to have a chance to make everything turn out for the better this time, there can’t be secrets between them any longer. “The Dragonlord we were searching for, Balinor, he was my father. When he got killed, I inherited his powers and became the last Dragonlord. I commanded Kilgharrah to stop and fly away and never attack Camelot or the Pendragons ever again.”

Arthur closes his eyes, exhaling heavily. When he looks at Merlin again, there’s something like resignation in his eyes, and he shakes his head. “So you’re a Dragonlord as well as the most powerful sorcerer to ever live.”

“Well, here I’m not a Dragonlord yet,” Merlin replies snidely. “My father is still alive, after all.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, Merlin realizes what he has just said. His father is still alive. Just like Gwen and Elyan and Gwaine and Lancelot.

“I guess there are many things, you haven’t told me over the years,” Arthur says with a heavy sigh. “We will have to remedy that. I want you to tell me everything that has happened. But not now. This evening will have to do.”

Merlin nods, and Arthur holds his gaze for another long moment, before looking around the room for his clothes. He locates them on a small crate underneath the little window. There’s a red shirt, dark trousers and a dark brown leather jacket Arthur used to wear at festivities. Next to the crate stand a pair of boots. Merlin tries to remember if Arthur had worn that leather jacket during the feast for Lady Helen, but it was too long ago. If Gaius is right, though, that had been just last night.

There’s silence between them while they’re putting on their clothes, and finally Arthur walks over to the door. Before his hand reaches for the doorknob, he pauses, turning around to look at Merlin again.

“What are we going to tell Gaius?”

Merlin tilts his head. “Nothing. At least until we’re sure what’s going on here. And even then, I don’t think we should tell him anything at all.”

Arthur rolls his eyes. “No, that’s not what I meant. Of course, we’re not going to tell him anything. I mean the other thing.”

Merlin has no idea where Arthur is heading with this, and he blinks at him stupidly.

Arthur gestures in the direction of the bed. “Us, in bed together. You loathed me back then, and you used to think I was an arrogant ass, remember?”

“Oh.” Merlin’s eyes widen, finally understanding. “Um… we tell him that… you ordered me to… attend you last night, my room was closer than yours, and even though I still think you’re an arrogant ass and a clotpole, I guess I can deal with that now because you’re amazing in bed?”

Arthur meets Merlin’s eyes, dumbfounded, and Merlin crosses his arms over his chest.

“What? Do you have a better idea?”

“Well… no. Not really,” Arthur finally admits, and Merlin nods triumphantly.

“Alright, that’s settled then.”

He starts to walk to the door as well, but hesitates after just one step when he notices a flaw in their plan.

“Wait. What happens when Gaius tells Uther that he found us in bed together?”

Arthur, however, snorts and makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Nothing.”

Merlin looks at him skeptically. “How do you know that?”

“Think, Merlin,” Arthur says, rolling his eyes. “In my father’s eyes, you are the best thing that could possibly happen. You can’t get pregnant, so there’s no chance that I could father a bastard, and I can’t get stupid ideas about marrying you for love, either. Remember what happened when I told him I wanted to marry Guinevere? He was furious. The exact same thing would happen if I got some noblewoman from the court pregnant, because then I would have to marry her out of obligation, instead of marrying for a political alliance like my father has planned for me. If I were to impregnate a servant girl, she would probably disappear within a day, and if I was caught with a nobleman from the court, my father would be livid, because I would be open to extortion. But you are just a servant, my manservant even, which makes you the safest person for me to take to bed in all of Camelot,” Arthur explains, before a short laugh escapes him. “My father will be delighted.”

Merlin stares at Arthur for a long moment, and even though he knows Arthur doesn’t really mean it, it hurts nevertheless. “Well, I’m glad I’m such a convenient bed partner for you,” Merlin answers, and he tries to sound if he were joking, but he can’t quite conceal the bitter tone in his voice.

Merlin makes to walk past Arthur and open the door, but Arthur reaches for his arm, stopping him. “Merlin, look at me,” he demands, and only after Merlin meets his eyes does Arthur continue. “You are so much more than just a convenient bed partner. I love you.”

In the past, Arthur would never have spoken so openly about his feelings, but neither Arthur nor Merlin are the people they had once been, and last night had changed everything between them.

“I know,” Merlin replies quietly. “It was just hard hearing you say it like that.”

“I’m sorry.” Arthur sets his hand on Merlin’s cheek, before leaning forward and kissing him softly.

Afterwards, Arthur leans his forehead against Merlin’s, and they remain like that for several long moments.

“We should go now,” Merlin finally says. “Gaius is probably going to die of a heart condition as a result of intense curiosity any second now.”

Arthur laughs quietly, rolling his eyes, before letting go of Merlin again.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

When Merlin follows Arthur out of his small room, he spots Gaius standing in front of a table near the door, doing his best to look like he had not been trying to eavesdrop. Gaius lowers his gaze respectfully as he sees Arthur.

“Sire.”

Arthur gives Gaius a curt nod, walking to the door of Gaius’ chambers. “I want my breakfast in my chambers yesterday, Merlin, so hurry up and get it,” Arthur orders, before leaving the room without so much as a glance backwards.

Merlin stops dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping. The words sounded so much like the old Arthur that Merlin has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes, Milord,” Merlin says mockingly, shaking his head with a fond smile, as the door falls closed behind Arthur.

Once Arthur’s footsteps have disappeared down the stairs, Merlin hears Gaius’ voice behind him.

“Merlin, what are you doing?! I thought you didn’t like him?”

Turning around, Merlin faces Gaius, and there’s a worried look in the old man’s eyes. Merlin can’t really fault him for it, but he tries to play it down and shrugs as casually as possible.

“Turns out he’s not so bad after all, especially in bed.”

Gaius’ eyebrows rise nearly up to his hairline, and he stares at Merlin, clearly alarmed. “And what happens if he finds out that you have magic?! He will have you executed. This is beyond reckless! Merlin, what were you thinking?

Merlin can’t help but snort at that. Gaius has always acted like he is the only one who knows what is best for Merlin and for Camelot, and Merlin is done with letting him dictate what he’s supposed to do.

“Maybe you should put a little more faith in Arthur. He’s a better man than his father ever was,” Merlin replies, with a snide look in Gaius’ direction. “And I’m going to be careful, I promise. I have to go now, though. You heard Arthur. His Royal Highness is waiting for his breakfast.”

With that, Merlin turns around, leaving the room without another word.

***

Merlin walks slowly down the stairs that are taking him deeper and deeper under the castle. The steps were carved into the stone hundreds of years ago, and Merlin has to be careful not to miss a step or slip on the uneven surface. With one hand, he braces himself on the rough stone wall for balance, while holding a torch, borrowed from one of the wall brackets and ignited with magic, in the other.

It has been a long time since Merlin had last come down here. After he had freed Kilgharrah, there had been no reason for Merlin to visit the huge cavern under the castle again.

Reaching the last step, Merlin walks to the small ledge, looking around the huge cave. The torch in his hand only illuminates a tiny fraction of the cave, and the massive rock in front of him, where the Dragon usually sits, is empty. 

“Kilgharrah, show yourself!”

Merlin's loud voice echoes through the cave, and it only takes a moment until he can hear the sound of mighty wings flapping through the air. The huge figure of Kilgharrah approaches from somewhere farther back in the cave, before the dragon lands on the flat rock below the ledge Merlin is standing on. Finally, Kilgharrah folds his wings close to his body, surveying Merlin and putting one of his front legs over the other.

“Back so soon, young warlock? And someone has told you my name. I wonder who that was.“

The haughty tone in the dragon’s voice is exactly the same as it had been all those years ago, and Merlin feels a certain satisfaction when giving his answer.

“It was you.”

Kilgharrah’s eyes narrow, before he’s pushing his head forward. His big snout pauses mere meters in front of Merlin and the dragon’s nostrils flare. Finally, Kilgharrah pulls his head back again, studying Merlin with a puzzled look, tilting his head.

“Something is different about you today. Your body is still young, but your eyes have seen many years. How is that possible?”

Merlin arches an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You don’t know? Hm, I guess even the Great Dragon doesn’t know everything.”

“What happened?” the dragon prompts.

Merlin deliberately takes his time before answering. He relishes the feeling of having the advantage, because he knows something that Kilgharrah doesn’t. Just like Gaius, Kilgharrah has always decided for himself what was best for Merlin and Camelot, and he had not once told Merlin the whole truth. In the end, Merlin had been manipulated for Kilgharrah’s own goals. Now, Merlin is back at the beginning and once again he needs Kilgharrah’s help. Merlin can’t help but see the irony in this, and he tries to suppress the anger he’s feeling towards the dragon.

“Everything happened,” he says with a mirthless smile. “And I couldn’t do anything to make it turn out for the better. I tried, but I made too many mistakes, too many wrong decisions. And in the end, everything fell apart.”

Merlin’s throat tightens up, and he swallows heavily, thinking about the past he and Arthur have come from. But nothing of that has happened here, and that makes it bearable.

“I woke up this morning, in this time, right at the beginning with Arthur by my side,” Merlin continues. “Apparently, it was only four days ago that I first arrived in Camelot, but for me, it’s been fifteen years since I first set foot in this castle. Arthur and I have both retained all our memories, which means that we know everything that’s going to happen in the next fifteen years. But we have no idea who or what brought us back here. I was hoping you could shed a bit of light on this mystery.”

Kilgharrah tilts his head again, assessing Merlin silently. “Hm,” he finally says. “You are telling me that you and the young Pendragon have traveled back in time, but you have no idea how it happened.”

Merlin nods and Kilgharrah gives a noncommittal hum. “That is a mystery indeed. I have never heard of something like this happening before.”

“Is it possible that someone used magic to send us back in time?”

The dragon’s lips curl and he chuckles. “No, I don’t think so. It would require tremendous amounts of magic. No sorcerer, not even you, is that powerful.”

Kilgharrah’s big, yellow eyes fix Merlin with a patronizing look, and Merlin has to grit his teeth to keep from showing Kilgharrah exactly how powerful he is. During the time Merlin has lived with the druids, he had come to understand that the only boundaries that existed for him were those he had set for himself.

“Then how did this happen?” Merlin asks impatiently instead.

“Well, your guess is as good as mine,” Kilgharrah replies. “I would say, however, that magic itself has decided to give both of you a second chance.”

“Is something like that even possible?”

“Everything is possible,” Kilgharrah answers vaguely. “Magic is all around us. It’s in the ground we stand on, and in the air that we pull in our lungs. Who knows what is possible and what is not.”

“But this is real, isn’t it?” Merlin asks, just to be sure.

Kilgharrah regards him with an amused look in his eyes. “I’m as real as you are. And I can assure you, you, this isn’t a dream.”

“So we just accept that there’s no explanation and try changing the future for the better,” Merlin summarizes and the dragon answers with a hum.

“I don’t know what other options you have. Unless you want to try getting back to the time you have come from?”

Kilgharrah looks at Merlin curiously, but Merlin shakes his head without hesitating.

“No, we don’t want that.”

“Then I advise you to make the most out of the chance you were given. And you could start by freeing me from my chains.”

Merlin can’t help snorting at that. “Somehow, I knew you would say that.”

“I have asked the same thing of you already, haven’t I?” Kilgharrah assumes with a smug tone in his voice.

Merlin nods. “Yes, you did. And the last time I made a terrible mistake. A mistake I won’t repeat. Because I know that once these chains are broken, you will fly out of here and attack Camelot to get revenge for everything that Uther has done to you. And I won’t let that happen. Not this time. So I’m not going to free you.”

Kilgharrah bares his teeth, snarling angrily, before a deafening roar echoes through the cave. A moment later the dragon spits fire right at the spot where Merlin is standing. Merlin has anticipated the attack, however, and he lifts the torch in his hand, the flame flaring as a shield manifests. The dragon’s fire bounces off Merlin’s magical shield, and Merlin conjures a golden ball made of shimmering magic. He hauls the ball at Kilgharrah, who has to dodge to avoid getting hit, and the fire from his mouth ceases.

“You don’t get to turn your ire against me!” Merlin snaps. “I’m not responsible for your fate! Uther killed your kind and he imprisoned you here. I understand your bitterness and your hatred, but you lied to me the last time I freed you! You promised not to hurt anyone in Camelot, but the moment your chains fell off, you attacked the citadel and the town and killed innocent people! I didn’t say that I will never free you, but you will stay here until we can bring Balinor to Camelot, and he can stop you from destroying the peace that Arthur is trying to create between Camelot and everything magical!”

Kilgharrah stares at Merlin with narrowed eyes, his nostrils flaring. Merlin returns his gaze defiantly, but the dragon doesn’t attack him again.

“Balinor is dead,” Kilgharrah hisses. “Uther killed him like he killed all the Dragonlords!”

“No, Balinor is alive,” Merlin counters. “Gaius helped him escape back then. He has been hiding from Uther ever since.”

Kilgharrah regards Merlin silently, but he seems to believe that Merlin is telling the truth, because after several long moments he settles down again. “And I guess you didn’t know about the Dragonlords yet, the last time you freed me.”

“No, I didn’t,” Merlin says, a bitter tone in his voice. “Because you did not think it's necessary to tell me and neither did Gaius. Only after I had set you free did he tell me where we could find Balinor. But after we had found him, he got killed, and it was on me to stop you, for I am Balinor’s son.”

Kilgharrah’s eyes widen upon hearing that, before he starts laughing and shaking his head in amusement. “You are full of surprises, young warlock. And how small you are, for such a great destiny.”

The dragon had said those exact same words to Merlin when they had first met, and Merlin can’t help snorting at that. He knows the dragon cares about Albion’s fate, despite his desire for revenge. Without Kilgharrah, Arthur would have died more than once and Merlin would have been powerless to stop it. Merlin feels a connection to Kilgharrah, and he suspects that the blood of the Dragonlords flowing in his veins is responsible for that. 

“I promise I will come back to free you,” Merlin says at last. “And then a new era will begin, where magic will be free again.”

“So be it,” the dragon replies, nodding his big head in a shallow bow, before unfolding his wings and jumping into the air with a leap.


	4. The Lady of the Lake

## III. The Lady of the Lake

A small nudge with his magic makes the door fall closed behind Merlin as he carries the serving tray holding Arthur’s dinner to the big table in the anteroom of Arthur’s chambers. Setting the tray down, Merlin puts the plate with cold meat, bread, and cheese on the table. He places a cup and a pitcher of watered wine in front of it and arranges a knife and pricker next to the plate. 

Just as Merlin is done, the door opens again and Arthur enters his rooms. Turning around, Merlin sees that Arthur is still in his armor. A few strands of his blond hair are matted to his forehead and his face is still reddened, but there’s also a wide grin on his face and his blue eyes are glowing. He must have come straight from the training with his knights.

“What put you in such a good mood?” Merlin asks, leaning against the table. 

“I’ve been training with the knights all afternoon. It was _amazing_!”

Arthur approaches the table, pulling off his gloves. He cards one hand through his sweaty hair before letting the gloves fall onto the table. Reaching for the pitcher, he fills the cup and downs it in a few large gulps. 

“I was hardly tired at all, and I could have continued for hours, I swear! I never realized how much all the wounds I sustained over the years were limiting me. I could move so much faster all of a sudden! You should have seen it, Merlin.”

Merlin winces as Arthur mentions the countless injuries he had been living with in the other time. He had dressed Arthur often enough to remember where every single scar had been, and there had been so many over the years. Some of them had been Merlin’s fault, because he hadn’t been fast enough to protect Arthur. But that’s something Merlin doesn’t want to think about right now, not when Arthur’s elation is so contagious. 

“Shall I take your armor off?”

Arthur has just downed a second cup of wine, and he nods, extending his arms.

Merlin opens the buckles of the gorget and pauldron, while Arthur continues.

“Seriously Merlin, I was unstoppable. It was amazing! None of the other knights were a match for me. Ector maybe; he always was the strongest fighter with a sword, but I hardly broke a sweat when we fought! Granted, it was one of the first fights, but I don’t think it would have been any different if I had fought him later on.”

Merlin places Arthur’s gorget and pauldron on a chair, opening the buckles on Arthur’s arm harness and bracers.

“I’m certain that none of the other knights at the tournament next week are going to give me any trouble. Not that it was that difficult winning the last time—aside from the fight against Valiant of course, but this time he won’t be able to cheat with his enchanted shield.”

Putting the bracers away, Merlin kneels down to open Arthur’s greaves before standing up again, opening his belt and indicating for Arthur to bend over so that Merlin can pull the chain mail over his head.

When Arthur is standing upright again, he makes a dismissive gesture with his hand.

“You can just sneak into Valiant’s rooms during the reception at the end of the first day of the tournament. He didn’t use his enchanted shield the first day at all. And once you’ve killed the snakes, Valiant won’t be able to hurt anyone this time. I’m pretty sure he’s going to lose his fight against Sir Ewan if he doesn’t have the magical shield to help him. I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes that the shield isn’t working anymore.”

Arthur laughs gleefully, while Merlin removes his red gambeson, after having opened the buckles at the front. Finally deciding to help, Arthur pulls his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the floor. Merlin will have to pick it up later, but right now he couldn’t care less, because his eyes are fixated on the prominent muscles on Arthur's bare chest and arms. As always Arthur doesn’t seem to notice the way Merlin is looking at him. Instead, he sits down on one of the chairs at the table, extending one leg for Merlin to pull off his boots. Merlin hesitates only slightly, before averting his gaze from Arthur’s chest and assisting Arthur with his boots. 

“And what did you do all day?” Arthur asks after a moment, and suddenly Merlin feels like he’s stepped back in time, as he actually did after all. The only difference is that back then he could never have given Arthur an honest answer.

“I was talking to the dragon. He told me that no sorcerer, not even me, would be powerful enough to send someone back in time. He was pretty sure that this is real, though. His best guess is that magic itself sent us back to give us a second chance.”

Merlin puts Arthur’s boots aside for cleaning thoroughly later, just like he always did when Arthur had been training with the knights.

“Is something like that even possible?” Arthur asks, brows furrowed.

Merlin shrugs, pulling off Arthur’s socks. “Apparently it is, since we are here. That’s the best answer we are going to get, I’m afraid.”

Arthur deliberates for a moment. “Alright. Then I guess it has to be enough. We will fulfil the prophecy and make sure that everything turns out for the better this time. And we will start by preventing Valiant from hurting anyone during the tournament. Cutting off the snakes’ heads should do it this time as well, I think.”

Merlin nods, looking up at Arthur. “We will have to be careful though,” he points out. “Once we start changing things, other events might turn out completely different. It has probably started already with us being here and acting differently than before. Maybe you will have totally different opponents at the tournament.”

Arthur seems to think about that for a moment, but in the end he apparently decides that in his current form and with the additional fifteen years of experience, he’s going to beat every opponent.

“Well, we’ll just have to wait and see what happens,” he finally says. “But I think, as long as we don’t change things fundamentally, a lot of events are going to happen just the way we remember them.”

Arthur stands up, opening the strings on his trousers and letting them fall to the floor along with his undergarments. He steps out of the clothes and rakes a hand through his blond hair.

Seeing Arthur standing in front of him in all his youthful glory, Merlin’s mouth suddenly feels very dry. He knows that his face is turning red and out of habit he turns around towards the table, busying himself with placing the cup next to Arthur’s plate once again.

“Um, I… brought your dinner up and the tub is filled already — if you want to take a bath first…”

“Merlin.”

Merlin turns around and suddenly Arthur is standing right in front of him. There’s a knowing look in his eyes and an amused smile on his lips.

“You are allowed to look now, you know. And you’re even allowed to do a lot more than that.”

Merlin’s eyes flicker towards Arthur's lips, his mind reeling with possibilities. Arthur’s not waiting for Merlin to come to a decision though; he leans forward, closing the distance between them and capturing Merlin’s lips in a kiss.

Merlin breath stutters and a small moan escapes his throat. But just as he wants to put his hands on Arthur’s hips, Arthur breaks the kiss and makes a step backwards. 

“I think I want to take a bath first,” he announces with a sly grin, before turning around and walking over to the wooden bathtub.

Merlin blinks stupidly, and the fact that he has an excellent view of Arthur’s muscular back and ass is not helping. 

Stopping next to the tub, Arthur looks at Merlin with a raised eyebrow. “Could you, please?”

Merlin’s not sure what Arthur means, until Arthur makes a gesture in the direction of the water and he realizes that Arthur actually wants to take a bath right now, and he’s expecting Merlin to heat the water up again using his magic.

Merlin tilts his head, but he reaches for his magic nevertheless. In an instant, the water in the tub begins steaming again.

Watching the steam rise, Arthur snorts a laugh, shaking his head. “You have probably done that hundreds of times, and it never once crossed my mind that, every time I wanted to take a bath, the water was always hot, no matter when I came back to my chambers.”

“Yeah, and just think of all those convenient branches that kept falling on your attackers,” Merlin replies with a smug grin. “Not to mention how often someone stumbled over a root in the forest. Lucky for me, you were just as clueless about those things as you were about your perfectly hot bathwater.”

Arthur scowls a bit, but he doesn’t bother answering. Instead, he gets in the tub and lowers himself into the hot water. With a pleasant sigh, he pauses for a moment before he fully submerges. Once his head has come up again, he brushes his hair out of his face. Then he extends his arms, letting them rest on the edges of the tub, leaning back lazily. 

“I think I require your services to wash my back.”

Merlin walks over to the tub and kneels down behind Arthur. With a sly smile, he rolls up the sleeves of his brown jacket. Two can play this game.

“Of course, sire,” he says politely, his lips brushing Arthur’s ear as he speaks.

There’s a soft intake of breath from Arthur, and Merlin’s lips quirk.

Pressing a fleeting kiss to Arthur’s left shoulder, Merlin grabs the soap that he had placed next to the tub earlier. “If your lordship would be so kind as to bend forward.”

Arthur does as he is asked, and Merlin dips the soap into the water before letting his hands wander over Arthur’s shoulders and back reverently. Next, he washes Arthur’s arms and his hair, enjoying that he is now able to let his hands linger as much as he likes. Finally, he uses a small bucket to wash away any residue of lather from Arthur’s skin. 

“You can lean back again, sire.”

Arthur settles back against the wooden frame of the tub again, watching Merlin with a small smile on his lips.

Merlin moves around the tub until he’s kneeling next to Arthur. Then he lathers his hands with the soap again and lets his fingers wander over Arthur’s chest, slowly trailing lower.

Arthur moans quietly when Merlin’s fingers reach their goal, and Merlin starts stroking him lazily.

“Does that please you, my lord?” Merlin asks innocently, not stopping his slow movements.

Arthur’s head has fallen back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed, and his only answer is a drawn-out moan.

Merlin is watching Arthur intently, and the look of pleasure on Arthur’s face makes a shiver run through Merlin’s body.

“If it doesn’t please you, I had better stop. I wouldn’t want you to send me to the stocks for doing something improper.”

Merlin can’t stop himself from grinning as he says it, and just like he had anticipated, Arthur opens his eyes to slits, glaring at him.

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Merlin’s grin widens, and he moves his hand faster. “As you wish, sire.”

Arthur's eyes flutter closed again and another moan falls from his lips. He looks absolutely breathtaking, and Merlin has to bite his lip to control himself. 

At last, Arthur’s breath stutters, his hips bucking upward, and he comes with a deep groan. Once his climax has passed, Arthur opens his eyes again, looking at Merlin with heavy-lidded eyes.

“That was absolutely perfect,” he says with a contented sigh. “I never imagined that this fantasy would become reality one day.”

Merlin knows exactly how Arthur feels. He himself has thought about letting his hands trail a bit lower nearly every time he had knelt behind this tub to assist Arthur with bathing.

Taking the small bucket again, Merlin rinses the last of the soap from Arthur’s chest and shoulders, before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to Arthur’s neck. 

“Then I recommend you climb out of the tub now, so I can show you another fantasy of mine.”

When Merlin leans back again, their eyes meet, and there’s a hungry look on Arthur’s face. With a fluid motion he stands up, stepping out of the tub and extending his arms, looking at Merlin expectantly.

Merlin shakes his head, but he smiles fondly before fetching a towel from Arthur’s wardrobe — even though crossing the room isn’t easy, because his trousers have become noticeably tight. He dries Arthur off and once he is finished, Arthur takes the towel from Merlin, letting it fall to the floor absently, before tugging Merlin in close and locking their lips together in a fierce and needy kiss. Merlin presses them together head to toe, moving his hips against Arthur's, and he can feel Arthur getting hard again after just a few moments.

Arthur moans before breaking away and fixing Merlin with a grin. “I love being young again.”

Merlin returns his grin and then starts pushing Arthur backwards. Arthur, meanwhile, opens Merlin’s belt, but when he sees that Merlin is not moving them in the direction of the bed but past it and towards Arthur’s desk, he raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve always wanted to take you on that desk. You were always sitting there, doing important things, and all I ever thought about was bending you over it,” Merlin confesses hoarsely. “And now I finally can.”

Arthur clamps his lip between his teeth, and a moment later he’s already hitting the edge of the desk.

“Turn around,” Merlin demands, and Arthur does as he’s told without hesitating.

Merlin places a hand on Arthur’s back and gently pushes him down until he’s resting with his chest on the surface of the desk. Reverently, Merlin lets his hands wander over Arthur flushed skin. It’s still mind-blowing that Arthur is allowing him to do this, and he’s going to enjoy every moment of it.

Finally, Merlin’s hands trailer lower, and he squats down, grabbing Arthur’s ass with both of his hands.

“Best ass in all of Camelot,” he says solemnly, before burying his face in between Arthur’s cheeks.

“Merlin!”

Arthur’s surprised cry ends in a loud moan, and Merlin sees from the corner of his eye that Arthur’s fingers are gripping the edge of the desk tightly.

Merlin holds Arthur’s hips, taking his time to drive Arthur crazy with his tongue. Every moan falling from Arthur’s lips spurs Merlin on further, and when he finally can’t take it anymore himself, he stands up again.

“Do you think that’s enough to ease the way?” he asks breathlessly. “I’ve got a vial of oil from Gaius, but it’s by the bed…”

Arthur cranes his neck to look at Merlin, chest heaving. “You have magic. Just let it fly over here.”

Merlin is about to extend a hand towards the bedside table, but then he pauses. “Mmh, I think I have a better idea,” he says, letting his hand trail over Arthur’s hip and muttering a quick spell.

Arthur’s loud gasp tells Merlin that his spell worked, and he lets two fingers slide into Arthur slowly. Just like Merlin had intended, there’s now a cool wetness where Merlin’s tongue had been moments prior.

“I bet I could do even more than that,” Merlin deliberates, trying to keep his voice steady while continuing to move his fingers. “I bet I could make your muscles relax, so that I could just take you without preparing you at all.”

A strangled whine escapes Arthur, and Merlin has to bite his lips to keep from coming then and there.

“Well, let’s save that for the next time,” Arthur breathes between moans. “I’m ready, come on, get on with it!”

“So impatient,” Merlin chides gently, but he’s just as desperate as Arthur is. Pulling his fingers back, Merlin spanks Arthur once on his ass, before opening his trousers and lining himself up.

“You better hold on tight, sire,” Merlin says, and Arthur snorts, but doesn’t manage to say anything else because Merlin pushes into him and a loud moan is the only sound that Arthur is still capable of.

Merlin only gives Arthur a moment to adjust, before gripping his hips and starting to thrust into him hard and fast. Arthur holds onto the desk, trying to push back, while Merlin is intent on hitting that spot inside of Arthur that makes him moan loudly.

The only sound in the room is their strangled breathing, and it doesn’t take long for Merlin’s movements to become harder and more erratic. He reaches around Arthur’s hips, closing his fingers over Arthur’s erection. Only a few thrusts later, Merlin can hear Arthur’s breath stuttering as he comes, and it only takes a few more thrusts until his pleasure reaches its peak and his brain goes temporarily blank .

Merlin slumps forward, resting his cheek on Arthur’s back while he tries to catch his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Arthur pulling his fingers from the edge of the desk, but otherwise he doesn’t move. Merlin smiles lazily, before pressing a soft kiss to Arthur’s neck and trailing a hand over his sweaty skin.

“You’re all sweaty again,” he mumbles, and he feels Arthur chuckling softly.

“Well, then you’ll just have to clean me up again.”

They keep lying there for another moment, before Merlin pulls back again and Arthur straightens up. Afterwards, they go back to the tub and Merlin uses his magic to clean the water and heat it up again. He takes off his clothes and joins Arthur in the tub, and they wash the thin film of sweat off their bodies with gentle touches.

After toweling off, they lie down on Arthur’s big four-poster bed. Arthur has his hands crossed behind his back, while Merlin’s cheek rests against Arthur’s shoulder. Merlin is warm and content and idly moves his fingers over Arthur’s chest, the two of them just enjoying each other’s company. 

“I can’t really believe it quite yet,” Arthur says after some time has passed. “That we’re here and get to have this.”

Merlin hums. “I know what you mean.”

“I’ve loved Guinevere with all my heart,” Arthur continues thoughtfully. “But I’ve never felt such a deep connection with anyone else as I have with you.”

“Me neither,” Merlin answers. “You are the only person altogether that I’ve ever…”

Merlin’s breath catches in his throat. Arthur isn’t the only person that Merlin has ever loved. He had loved Freya and his heart had broken into pieces when she had died in his arms.

Suddenly, Merlin’s eyes widen, and he realizes that none of that has happened yet in this time. Sitting up in one swift move, the only sound that fills his ears is the beating of his heart.

Freya is still alive in this time.

When the bounty hunter Halig had brought Freya to Camelot caged behind metal bars, Merlin had already been in Camelot for over one year. He had never asked Freya how long she had been alone, after the Druids of her settlement had cast her out due to the curse that had been placed on her. She had never told him how long she had been living with the curse that caused her to transform into the Bastet every night at midnight. She had just told Merlin how it had happened. A man had attacked her and Freya had defended herself, killing her attacker by accident. Out of revenge, the man’s mother, a sorceress, had cursed Freya and from this day on she had been transformed into the black winged panther every night, slave to the monster's instinct to hunt and kill.

But maybe none of this has happened yet. Maybe Freya is still a carefree Druid girl, living in her settlement on a lake in the mountains. And even if Freya has been cursed already, Merlin now knows how to break the curse. After Freya’s death, Merlin had not been able to stop wondering if he would have been able to save her. It had taken years, but finally he had found the answer in an old book, purely by chance. It had been only one sentence, scribbled at the end of a page, and Merlin had nearly missed it. It spoke of a spell that was able to overcome every curse born of hatred by true love. And that meant that Merlin could save Freya in this time. 

“Are you alright?” Arthur asks softly, pulling Merlin from his thoughts again.

Merlin’s eyes flicker to Arthur, who is looking at him with a worried expression in his eyes. He bites his lip, considering, but it only takes him another moment to make a decision.

“Yeah, I just… I have to go,” Merlin says, before climbing out of the bed in one swift movement and hurrying over to the bathtub to pull on his clothes. “I’m sorry. I will tell you everything when I get back, but I don’t have time for that now.”

Merlin would never forgive himself if he was too late to save Freya this time as well.

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?” Arthur asks in surprise and a rustle of blankets tells Merlin that Arthur has sat up.

“I’m sorry… I’m not quite sure yet, but I will be back in a few days, I promise,” Merlin replies, already pulling on his boots.

“In a few _days_?” Arthur repeats with a disbelieving tone in his voice. “You can’t just vanish like that. You are still my manservant in this time!”

Merlin already closes his belt and grabs his jacket. “I know, I know, and I’m sorry, but there is something I have to do right now.”

“Wait! What am I going to tell my father?”

Merlin has already walked towards the door, but he pauses and turns around, his eyes meeting Arthur’s. “You’ll think of something. I have to go now. I’m sorry, I’ll come back as soon as I can. I love you.“

With that, Merlin opens the door and leaves the room. As the door closes behind him, he’s feverishly trying to come up with what he’s going to do now. First, he has to find out where Freya is and whether she has already been cursed or not.

As fast as possible, Merlin makes his way to Gaius’ rooms. Fortunately, Gaius isn’t there and Merlin hastily pours water from a pitcher into a bowl from one of the shelves. He moves his hand over the bowl and reaches for his magic. The water’s surface ripples, and Merlin’s heart jumps as he waits for an image of Freya to appear. It takes a moment for the water to clear again, but when it does, all that Merlin can see is blackness.

Merlin stares at the black surface, his eyebrows knitting. He casts the scrying spell again, this time speaking the words out loud and concentrating on Freya more intently. Tiny waves ripple over the water’s surface but when the water quiets, there’s nothing but a black nothingness again.

Merlin grits his teeth, casting the spell once more, this time pushing every ounce of the magic at his disposal into his words. The surrounding air begins to crackle, and he can see his eyes reflecting golden in the water’s surface, bright and piercing. The water ripples almost angrily and splatters over the edge of the bowl in several places, before it finally calms again. Merlin can see a blurred image of trees and bushes and the outlines of a figure, but then the images disappear again. All that remains is the bottom of the bowl, along with a faint feeling that he knows where the place the spell has shown him is located. 

Merlin doesn’t know why he wasn’t able to see Freya. Something like this has never happened before. He now knows, however, where she is.

As fast as possible, Merlin packs a bag with the most essential items and puts a loaf of bread and a lump of cheese inside — probably Gaius’ dinner. On a piece of parchment, he forms a note with a flick of his wrist, telling Gaius that there’s no need to worry and that Merlin will be back shortly. Then Merlin shoulders the bag and hurries down the castle stairs towards the stables. 

***

When the first rays of sunlight are glistening on the horizon the next morning, Merlin has been riding south-east for most of the night. He’s sitting in the saddle of a brown mare named Llamrei, the one Arthur had always given him to ride on in the other time. Llamrei is a horse with an uncomplicated and easy temperament, and Merlin had saddled her out of habit without really thinking about it.

Since riding through the gates of the castle, Merlin has followed the feeling that the spell had left behind after the image in the water-filled bowl had vanished. The feeling is constantly drawing him in one specific direction, showing him the way. It’s getting weaker however, as if the effect of the magical mirror is fading. Something like that shouldn’t be possible – just like no images appearing in the first place shouldn’t be possible — and Merlin is growing increasingly nervous.

When he reaches a small hilltop, a loose assembly of buildings appear in the distance to his left. Merlin’s path would guide him right through the small village and his first instinct is to give the place a wide berth, but then he realizes that there are no people between the houses or in the fields surrounding the village. Even though the sun has just risen, there has been enough daylight for a while now and the people living in the village should be going about their daily business already.

Without thinking about it any further, Merlin urges Llamrei forward. Soon, he reaches a small road, following it into the village. The first thing he notices is that all the shutters on the windows have been closed tightly. A few chickens are running from one side of the road to the other further back, but apart from that there are no other animals in their pens.

Merlin continues on warily, until he suddenly hears a sound behind him and turns around to face the house he has just passed. The shutter of a small window has been opened slightly, and a man is peering out onto the road. 

Merlin pulls on Llamrei’s reins and the mare stops obediently. A moment later, the door of the house is opened a fraction and a man in simple clothing with a thick black beard appears in the crack. His eyes dart around anxiously before he opens the door a little wider, and Merlin spots an axe in his hand. 

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“Nothing,” Merlin answers honestly. “I’m just passing through.”

“Then you should ride along and leave this area as fast as you can,” the man says briskly. It doesn’t sound like a threat though, more like a warning, and that confuses Merlin further.

“Why?”

The man’s mouth is set into a grim line. “There’s a monster roaming the woods. It looks like a large cat, but black as the night and with gruesome wings. It came here the night before this one and attacked our village. We managed to wound it and chase it away, after it killed two of the children and an old man. It didn’t come back last night though, so we are hoping that it’s dead, but it could still be out there.”

Cold fear grips Merlin’s heart, and without paying the man any further attention, he urges Llamrei into a gallop, leaving the village in the direction indicated by the dwindling feeling of the spell.

A little while later, Merlin reaches a thick forest, and he slows down, guiding Llamrei through the dense trees. He closes his eyes, concentrating on the feeling, and he’s certain that it can’t be far now.

Then, the feeling is suddenly gone entirely, and Merlin’s eyes fly open as he stops Llamrei. He’s in a small meadow, surrounded by several bushes and shrubs. Not knowing what else to do, he dismounts, petting Llamrei’s neck briefly, and looks around. He’s not certain if this is the place the spell had shown him and at first glance he can’t spot anything unusual. It’s silent except for the occasional soft rustling of leaves above him and the chirping of some birds.

Merlin starts moving, examining his surroundings. The sun is sparkling through the canopy when all of a sudden he sees it. There’s blood on the thin twigs and leaves of a high shrub a few feet away. It’s already dried and dark, and once Merlin bends a few twigs sideways, he sees a trail of dried blood on the floor. With a pounding heart, Merlin follows the trail, and a few meters ahead amidst several shrubs a body appears.

“Freya!” 

Merlin reaches her in two steps, kneeling down next to her. She’s lying face down on the forest floor, and her long black hair is hiding her face. Merlin reaches out to turn her over, but the moment his fingers touch her skin, he freezes.

Her skin is ice-cold. 

After a moment, Merlin turns Freya onto her back. Her body is stiff and uncooperative. The dress that she’s wearing has been torn in several places and there’s crusted blood on her stomach and on the ground below her. Her eyes are closed and her skin is pale and colorless.

She is dead. Merlin has come too late.

Merlin pulls Freya’s head in his lap and buries his face in her hair. Tears are streaming down his cheeks, and he’s sobbing uncontrollably, before a scream of grief and anguish tears out of his throat and echoes through the forest.

Merlin has no idea for how long he has been sitting there, Freya’s dead body in his arms, but when his tears finally run dry, the sun has risen high in the sky and is streaming through the canopy above him. He’s unable to look away from Freya’s pale face and pushes a strand of hair out of the way gently.

He hadn’t been able to save her this time, either.

When the man in the village had told him that they had wounded the beast one night ago, cautious hope had been creeping into Merlin’s heart, letting him think that he could find Freya in time. But the discoloration of her skin and her stiff joints indicate that she died more than one day ago. She must have died from her injuries in the night after the attack on the village. And that means that she was already dead when Merlin and Arthur woke up in this time yesterday morning.

There had never been a chance that Merlin could have saved Freya. By arriving in this timeline, Merlin and Arthur had changed it already, and the first alteration was that the Bastet had been wounded by the villagers and Freya had died.

Merlin’s thumb strokes gently over her cheek. It’s not fair.

Now there’s only one thing Merlin can do, and the magic of this land would do well to grant Merlin’s wish, after Freya had been taken from him. The last time, Merlin had brought Freya to the Lake of Avalon after she had told him that she had grown up in a village near a lake. He had wanted to give her a small piece of home, since he hadn’t been able to save her. The magic of Avalon had given Freya a new immortal life, devoid of pain and suffering as the Lady of the Lake.

Merlin takes off his jacket to cover Freya with it, before lifting her into his arms and standing up. He walks back to Llamrei, who has waited for him in the meadow, and after wrapping Freya into the blanket of his bedroll, Merlin gets into the saddle and heads for the Lake of Avalon. 

***

The sun has nearly set and the last rays of sunlight are painting the sky in beautiful shades of red and orange when Merlin finally reaches the lake. The colors reflect on the water’s surface near the shore, while the middle of the lake is shrouded in a thick cloud of fog.

Merlin climbs out of Llamrei’s saddle and carries Freya’s dead body to the wooden boat that is tied to a post of the small pier. Carefully, he places Freya inside, before extending one hand and letting hundreds of colorful flowers grow all around her. Merlin softly strokes Freya’s cheek one last time, rearranging her hair, before sending the boat out onto the lake.

When the boat has reached a safe distance to the shore, Merlin mumbles a few words and the boat with Freya’s body starts burning. Then he sits down at the shore, watching the flames lick at the wood of the boat.

It doesn’t take long until the flames have engulfed the whole boat, and they flare brightly in front of the blazing red horizon. Finally, the boat breaks apart in the middle and the flames go out as the blackened remains of the boat submerge in the water.

Merlin remains sitting at the shore, looking out onto the lake. It’s getting dark around him, and when all light is gone the rising moon appears above the treetops. The shimmering light reflects off the surface of the lake, and Merlin’s eyes need a moment to adjust before they notice the figure standing in the shallow water near the shore. Merlin has only blinked once and the next moment, she’s standing there.

Freya is wearing a flowing, dark blue dress that reaches down into the water and caresses her slender body. Her black hair frames her face in soft curls and there’s a happy smile on her lips as her eyes meet Merlin’s.

Merlin gets up, walking to the shore line.

“Hello, Merlin,” Freya says, smiling softly. “I’ve missed you.”

Merlin returns her smile, but he can’t quite banish the sadness out of it. “I’ve missed you as well. I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you this time either.” 

Tears well up in Merlin’s eyes, but Freya shakes her head.

“Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. This is the way it has to be. Do not mourn me.”

Merlin closes his eyes for a moment, nodding shakily. Freya is part of the magic of this world now, and she is going to stay that way forever.

Finally, Merlin takes a deep breath. “Did magic send me and Arthur through time?” he asks, because Freya is probably the only one capable of giving him an answer to this question.

A gentle smile appears on Freya’s lips. “You know the prophecy, Merlin. The Once and Future King will unite Albion and bring a time of peace. You and Arthur were created as two sides of the same coin, but only after you had realized that in your hearts were you are able to continue your path and fulfill your destiny.”

Merlin’s eyes widen as he realizes that the answer to his question has been right in front of him. Arthur had been King of Camelot in the other time, and this time he will be King of Camelot again. Therefore, he is the Once and Future King. Magic itself has sent them back here, not to give them a second chance as they had assumed, but to walk the path that was already behind them once again, as it had been their destiny from the beginning.

Freya smiles, pleased that Merlin finally understands.

“I have to go now,” she says and Merlin hurries to ask one last question.

“Will I ever see you again?”

“You never know,” she answers vaguely. “Goodbye, Merlin.”

“Goodbye, Freya.”

Freya smiles at Merlin one last time, then she’s gone just as suddenly as she appeared.

Merlin remains standing on the shore, looking out onto the surface of the lake and the shimmering reflection of the nearly full moon. Finally, he turns around, returning to Llamrei and making his way back to the castle.

***

It has been dark for some time when Arthur groans yet again and lets the quill in his hand drop onto the table. He’s sitting at his desk and the entire surface is covered in lists and reports about Camelot’s granary, but he can’t concentrate on the numbers.

Two days have passed since Merlin disappeared without any explanation whatsoever. He left a note for Gaius, telling him that he shouldn’t worry. Arthur told everyone that he had sent Merlin home to his mother to tell her about Merlin becoming the prince’s manservant and inviting her to come to Camelot if she wanted to. It’s a bad explanation for Merlin’s absence, but the first one that Arthur had been able to come up with.

Arthur’s father accused him of being too soft-hearted and said that Arthur shouldn’t even think about ordering any of the other servants to do Merlin’s chores. Arthur couldn’t care less. He knows that Merlin can take care of himself perfectly well, but he’s worried nevertheless. Something in the way Merlin had taken off in such a hurry doesn’t sit right with him.

Arthur puts the quill aside for good and runs one hand over his face. He had assumed that the times when Merlin would leave him in the dark and just vanish were over. At least Merlin had promised to tell Arthur everything once he’s back, instead of resorting to some flimsy lie. This time it’s Arthur who's lying for Merlin instead.

Arthur looks up when the door to his chambers opens. Seeing Merlin entering, Arthur gets up from his chair behind the desk. A feeling of relief washes over him, and he’s about to reprimand Merlin for just vanishing without an explanation, when he sees Merlin’s face and pauses.

There are dark rings under Merlin’s eyes, and he looks tired and exhausted. In addition to that, his eyes are reddened, like he has been crying and his gaze is empty and resigned.

“What happened?“ Arthur asks carefully, before walking around the desk and towards Merlin.

When he pauses in front of him, a sad smile tugs at the corners of Merlin’s lips.

“Apparently, there are some things we can’t change,” he says quietly. “Things that have to happen just the way they already did.”

Arthur shakes his head in confusion. “I don’t understand. Where have you been?”

Merlin takes a deep breath, before walking over to Arthur’s bed and lowering himself onto the covers. Arthur follows him, sitting down next to Merlin, and after taking another deep breath, Merlin starts speaking again.

“Do you remember the Druid girl that the bounty hunter Halig brought to Camelot in a cage?”

Arthur doesn’t know where Merlin is headed with this, but he nods. “Yeah. Someone helped her escape, and when she transformed into that winged beast at night, she killed two of the knights.”

“I helped her escape back then,” Merlin admits quietly, not meeting Arthur’s eyes. “I didn’t know about the curse though. I just thought she had been captured because she was a Druid and had magic. Her name was Freya.”

Arthur tries remembering that night, but it was too long ago. Merlin had only been in Camelot for a year at that time. “I remember wounding the beast when it attacked us. But a stone gargoyle fell from the roof and the monster escaped.”

Merlin grimaces. “That was me as well. I couldn’t let you hurt her, because… because I loved Freya. I only knew her for a couple of days, but that short amount of time was enough for me to fall in love with her.”

Merlin’s eyes are trained on the floor in front of him, his gaze empty. For a long moment, the words hang in the air between them, while Arthur assesses Merlin silently. 

“What happened to her?” Arthur finally asks.

Merlin closes his eyes. “She died in my arms,” he answers with a heavy voice. “I brought her to the Lake of Avalon right before she died. She told me that she grew up in the mountains by a lake and I wanted to give her a bit of home when I couldn’t save her. I burned her body in a boat on the lake.”

Arthur closes his eyes upon realizing that he had been responsible for the death of the girl that Merlin had been in love with. “I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, but to his surprise Merlin shakes his head, looking up to meet Arthur’s eyes.

“No, it wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to protect the people of Camelot. The curse made her do all those terrible things, and she had no control over it. She would have killed a lot more people if you hadn’t stopped her.”

“Where have you been the last two days?”

Merlin takes another deep breath, closing his eyes. “I thought I could save her this time. That maybe she hadn’t been cursed yet—and even if she was, I would have known how to break the curse this time. But it was too late. I used a spell to find her; it’s called scrying and works like a magical mirror. I couldn’t really see her, but I rode out to the location the spell showed me. When I got there, I realized why the spell hadn’t worked properly. She was already dead. The beast had attacked a village and the villagers had wounded her. She died before we even woke up in this time.”

Arthur gently lays a hand on Merlin's thigh. “I’m so sorry.”

Merlin’s eyes flicker up to meet Arthur’s, and to his surprise a small smile appears on Merlin’s lips.

“Thank you, but it’s alright, you know. I brought her to the Lake of Avalon this time as well, and just like last time magic gave her a new life as the Lady of the Lake. She can’t be with me, but she’s a part of Avalon now, and as such she will live forever. I talked to her, and she told me that I shouldn’t be sad, because she was alright and that this was the way it has to be. I miss her though.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur says once again. “It’s not fair that you had to lose Freya again.”

Merlin shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. And you should be angry with me.” A mirthless laugh escapes him, and he rakes a hand through his hair. “I left without an explanation, and now I’m telling you that I’m in love with another person after I told you that I love you.”

Arthur shrugs. “You can love more than one person, Merlin. Every love is different, but that doesn’t make it any less real or honest. I loved Guinevere — my Guinevere — and I always will, but my heart will always belong to you as well.”

Merlin smiles faintly. “My heart will always belong to you as well, but I will never forget Freya.”

Merlin moves his hand on top of Arthur’s, interlacing their fingers. Arthur gently stokes the back of Merlin’s hand with his thumb.

“Come on. You look dead on your feet. Let’s get some sleep. You have got a lot of work to catch up to tomorrow, after all. I told my father that I sent you to Ealdor to bring your mother back to Camelot if she wanted to come, and he forbade me from ordering any of the other servants to do your chores. Which means my armor didn’t get polished, my boots didn’t get cleaned, my clothes weren’t washed, and my floor wasn’t swept.”

Merlin stares at Arthur dumbfounded for a moment, before snorting a laugh. Arthur smiles fondly, happy to have succeeded in distracting Merlin from his gloomy thoughts.

“Alright then, let’s go to bed,” Merlin says after a moment, still smiling. “You’re lucky that I have magic. I can make your armor polish itself just alongside your boots, while I bring your clothes to be washed and make the mop clean the floor.”

Arthur flashes Merlin a grin. “I knew there was a reason why I keep you around.”


End file.
